


Love Like A Winter's Hearth

by DestiniesEntwined



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Apologies, First Kiss, Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Napping, Post-Canon, Post-Episode 6, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 20:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestiniesEntwined/pseuds/DestiniesEntwined
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale stand on the precipice of their feelings for one another as they enjoy their evening at the Ritz, slowly those feelings bubble over as their evening progress. Glances become touches, touches become words, and the truth of love unfurls, warm and comforting like a winter's hearth.





	Love Like A Winter's Hearth

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this thing half finished for MONTHS. Decided to finish it tonight. Un-beta'd. One-shot for now...may continue?  
Lots of intense feelings... because that's how I roll.
> 
> Bon Appetit!

In all six millennia of Earthly existence, the most torturously long handful of days had finally come to an end.

It came with golden chandeliers and soft melodies of ebony and ivory floating through the air. It came with the gentle tickle of effervescence against sensitive olfactories and the bittersweet tang of champagne on their tongues.

It came with an unexpected lightness of heart that was both relieving, and yet, utterly foreign to the fallen angel, whose quiet contemplation bubbled with the onset of inebriation. His ethereal companion had prattled on about things he would like to do, now that he was free to take a little bit of a vacation.

"Perhaps a holiday in Fiji, or Bora Bora, I'd love to try one of those splendid looking little cabins over the water...or even somewhere incredibly remote like Annobon Island? There are too many beautiful places on this planet that I haven't seen yet..."

The angel's eagerness radiated from him, chasing the demon's usual array doubts and suspicions back to the shadows from whence they came. The feeling was marvelously magnetic. Crowley leaned in slightly, resting more so against his forearm on the table as he finally began to feel himself _truly _relax for the first time-well-in which he could ever recall. And for once, he let himself revel in it-just for a bit. Even in old moments of solitude, the back of his mind buzzed with caution and his hackles were perpetually raised. But that unsettled mindset had mysteriously dissipated.

His mellow contentment earned him curious side-glances and soft smiles from the angel next to him; and it made something positively _sizzle _up his spine, sending the hairs on the back of his neck on end. It had been quite some time since he let himself relish _that_ particular feeling. For so long now, he had kept any and all inklings of what could resemble _feelings_ toward his angelic counterpart at bay.

_Has the angel seen right through me? Am I being that obvious?_

Aziraphale hadn't felt this giddy in so very long. An enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and now, here he was, dining at the Ritz with his dearest. His heart and his body were in sensory overload, as the most divine flavors danced upon his tastebuds while his darkly clad date watched him with a fondness he had never noticed in him before. He had always felt the steadiness of those oft-shaded eyes trained on him in their most casual of conversations. But now, in this perfectly sublime moment, the angel felt something oddly familiar emanating from his hidden golden gaze as the corner of Crowley's lips maintained an incredibly enigmatic quirk, as if he were in a pleasant daydream behind those dark sunglasses.

It was _warm._

The platinum principality felt suddenly exposed-laid bare under his acute observation, unsure if this the first Crowley had looked at him this way, or if it was merely the first time he'd been aware of it.

_Do I have crumbs on my face? Have I been rambling too much? Oh dear...am I being that obvious?_

As the evening light faded into nighttime, and their third bottle of Armand de Brignac had been emptied, the angels' lavish-and many years overdue-date had come to a close. The warm buzz of their endless toasting, for every shared experience, every miracle, every silly mishap they could recall as they strolled down memory lane back to the present moment, had etched their faces with contentment.

They rode that high as they wordlessly walked toward their unspoken destination. It was only a 10 to 15 minute venture to the quaint and overstuffed bookshop in Soho, and intuitively knew not to bother with a cab that evening.

A few minutes into their stroll along Picadilly, Crowley realized that they were walking just a tad closer than they usually did as their coat sleeves began to brush sporadically. Crowley shivered, and he wasn't quite sure if the chilly autumn night was truly to blame.

The angel next to him cleared his throat lightly.

"You know, my dear," he began, "if you have any thoughts on our little vacation, I would love your input."

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, and gaped slightly at his heavenly partner-in-crime. It had been the first time all evening Aziraphale had chosen the plural over the singular.

"Our?" he paused, as it dawned on him that all the earlier talk of tropical islands had not been the Angel merely waxing quixotic, but an attempt to bounce travel plans off of him.

Aziraphale was _slightly_ offended that his dearest hadn't seemed to understand his intention, until he realized that perhaps the demon _had _in fact, been doing a bit of daydreaming earlier.

Or perhaps...he hadn't been clear in his intentions. _Oh Dear, does he not realize...?_

And in that moment, something came over Aziraphale-he took Crowley's hand between his own and looked him straight in the face.

"There is absolutely _nowhere_ in this universe I would want to go without you."

_Ngk_. Crowley held his breath. For the second time this weekend, he was overwhelmed- Indescribable intensity that threatened to what he thought would be discorporation. Yesterday afternoon, when he thought he had lost his dear angel, it had been anger and despair. But _oh...this_ was so delightfully different...it felt so..._light._

The struggle between exhilaration and panic made him want to betray every fiber of his demonic make up and-

"Angel, I will go _anywhere_ with you," he said softly. He paused, drinking in the look on his companion's face as those blue eyes began to water, before he chuckled. "I hear Alpha Centauri is _lovely_ this time of year."

Aziraphale scrunched his face in a feigned half-scowl as he fought back a smile, giving his fallen one a a playful whack on the arm. "Why you...you _wily_ serpent!"

They shared a laugh at their little in-joke before his smile settled and found those shaded eyes once more.

"Dear boy..." he reached for his answer gripping Crowley's hand tighter in excitement, "you _really_ mean that?"

"Would I lie to you, Angel?"

Blue eyes searched his face thoughtfully. Despite the hundreds of times his snappy comeback was readily poised on his tongue, tonight he would finally be honest with himself, and Crowley.

"No, Crowley, I suppose you wouldn't."

Aziraphale never let go of the demon's hand after that, interlacing their fingers as they walked the rest of the way back to Soho.

Back at the bookshop, Aziraphale stood at the doorstep, Crowley by his side, still hand-in-hand. After hearing what had originally happened to it the day before, he was hesitant to step through the door and find anything glaringly different. The exterior gave away not even a hint of the damage that his demon had described yesterday.

Sensing the blond's uncertainty, Crowley gave the warm hand in his an assuring squeeze and let it go, so the door could be unlocked the mundane way.

Aziraphale sighed and turned the key. Lamps miraculously lit up the room as they stepped inside.

The particular principality took a very long moment to thoroughly scan the room. Crowley knew it would come when he noticed-

"What on Earth are _those_?"

Aziraphale wandered over to the series of red-covered books and picked one up. As he thumbed through, gingerly turning each page, Crowley piped in with his own assumption.

"I believe they are a bit of a..._gift._ From the Antichrist himself."

Aziraphale smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Quite right," he said, turning another page. "They are a children's series and the main character sounds much like our young Adam and his little band of friends." Setting the book back in its rightful place, he turned to Crowley. "I suppose I should send him a thank you note. Quite the brilliant addition, I'd say. Don't have many children's books."

Crowley just hummed in agreement as he once again took a moment to watch Aziraphale in his tempered excitement. The angel had his back to him for a long while as he scoured more shelves, taking stock of everything.

Suddenly, he heard a sniffle.

"I'm so glad..." he heard the angel say, ever so softly. "...It's all here."

"I told you," he reassured as he removed his sunglasses and placed them on the coffee table. "Not a smudge."

"Not just the books, Crowley. _All of it_." Aziraphale looked all around him, gesturing broadly, turning slowly back toward his fallen friend as he spoke. "Earth...Humanity... Sushi, wine, crepes, the theatre, music, your car..." he paused, finally looking at the one being that mattered to him in all the world, in his wide and expressive golden eyes. His own brimming with unshed tears. "..._us._"

The pain of having nearly lost his Angel suddenly hit Crowley, once again, with the force of his Bentley at 90 miles per hour through central London. His sharp features crumpled and he slouched into the old couch, covering his face with his hands. A silent gasp escaped him before inhaling, deeply.

"I can't even _begin_ to describe how it felt yesterday-coming in here," he choked out. "The flames _everywhere, _and you were _gone. _Nowhere to be found._" _He attempted to collect himself, but failed. "_Fuck_...I thought you were _dead,"_ he emphasized with dramatic gesture,_ "_I couldn't deal with my _best friend_ being _dead..." _He paused, looking desperately to his celestial companion. "Just the thought of never seeing you again, I-I don't-"

Aziraphale finally realized what Crowley meant by 'losing his best friend'. His lip trembled and those tears finally fell. He approached his distraught demon and gently pried his hands from his pained visage, halting his rambling. The angel wiped a tender thumb along wet cheekbones.

"But I'm here. And _you're _here, my dear," he comforted with a warm hand cupping his cheek. "_My_ best friend."

Crowley just stared slightly upward at him in pained awe.

"Do you know how _long_ I've waited to hear you say that?" Crowley asked, a sting lacing his words.

Aziraphale's heart lurched as realization hit him. Memories washing over him like a film reel, in which Crowley had said and done things that made _him_ feel things in return. How many times had he snapped at the demon with witty, thinly-veiled insults? How many times had he blatantly denied their friendship, their connaissance, in the name of self-preservation? How many times had his words and actions expressed the complete _opposite_ of his truest, deepest feelings? The answer was _innumerable_. He had hurt Crowley, and kept him waiting in the dark for centuries. He swallowed thickly as he searched for the right words.

"I must admit...It has only occurred to me just this evening...that you've been 'waiting'...for _me,_" the angel replied ashamedly. "It seems I've been quite the fool all these years," he added with a quiver. "And nowhere near as good of a friend as I should have been, the friendship and trust you deserved."

Crowley dropped his gaze for a moment, and before he could register what was happening, he was wrapped in an embrace, his head to the Angel's chest.

"You know, after I had been discorporated, I came back to earth after politely telling the Angelic Army to fuck off-"

"I would have _loved _to have seen that," Crowley replied with a soft chuckle.

"You would have been rather proud of me, dear," he replied, smiling into fiery red tresses. "but, long story short, I came back to earth and my spirit instantly found _you..._if that better explains things-your place in my heart."

Crowley went deathly quiet in the angel's arms. The sudden admission, catching him off guard. He knew Aziraphale cared, that was obvious for a long time. He had reluctantly admitted to himself two thousand years ago, in Rome, that he enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with him. Having him finally reciprocate that was something he felt had been sorely overdue. His _'place in the angel's heart,' _however, was weightier admission than he had expected. Crowley realized that _finally..._

...Aziraphale understood.

And his angel wasn't finished, the demon could feel the stirrings of such strong emotion ready to break through the cracking dam of his long-held wall of righteous propriety. He held his breath, and listened.

"I know that feeling, my dear," Aziraphale said softly, his warm breath sending shivers slithering down the demon's spine. "That same thought-of _losing_ you. That's exactly why I didn't want to give you the holy water all those years ago. I rather preferred that you remain cross with me than end up without you." He gave Crowley a squeezed before letting him go. Once his fallen angel was sitting up as properly as he ever could, Aziraphale reached up and gingerly fussed with mussed auburn tufts.

Wild and fully golden eyes searched his, brow furrowing with a plethora of questions unanswered. "All this time, Angel..."

"Ever since the advent of Christ, and we quietly agreed that what was going on was horrible. I lived in fear of possibly falling. Because of humanity and because of you, I realized that life and reality were not so black and white. I had been able to shoo away the nagging questions in my mind up until then. I made excuses rather than face the truth: that you and I, like humanity, live somewhere in the gray area in between. I hurt you by not heeding your words and not openly accepting you, and the commonalities we shared-as you had oft pointed out. I fooled myself by blindly clinging to a 'side' and not meeting you in the middle. So many times you were there for me, and all I did in turn was wrong you. And for that, I am deeply sorry."

Crowley gaped at him, brows threatening his hairline, struggling to fully absorb what he was hearing. But as the Angel reached for each of his hands and took them into his own, he felt it. For millennia, went without feeling it. Being cut off from light and love, he never expected to know it ever again. But it poured off of Aziraphale like a warm bath on a cold day, and shook Crowley to his core.

"It took the world almost ending, but you did meet me in the middle after all," the demon prodded gently, his face softening into something reverent. "A leap of faith, if you could call it that."

"I took a leap of Faith with you decades ago, my dear," he said, his blue eyes sparkling.

"What do you mean, Angel?" he asked, wracking his brain for a moment. "1967? The Holy Water?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "1941. The Blitz. You came to my rescue, despite us having been on the outs for some time. And although my miracle protected us, you, being so incredibly dear and thoughtful, saved the second-most important thing in the world to me: my books. It was that 'little demonic miracle of your own' that told me to leap. I knew that I could trust you with my life. I knew I had to trust _you_ more."

Crowley felt his face getting flushed. All of this truth was building up to something. He pretty sure he knew what it was, and he wasn't so sure he was ready to feel more exposed than he already did. Walls were crumbling all around them, in the privacy of a two centuries-old bookshop that held countless memories of late night chats and empty bottles. It may not be the end of their world, simply the end of their world as they've known it for over six millennia. The emotional upheaval rumbled between them like earth had under their feet the day before.

"I may have known, deep down, that you and I were clandestinely connected for thousands of years. But my feelings for you have simmered so slowly toward a boil that I am the proverbial frog in the pot. And on top of it all, I told myself for so long that there was no way you reciprocated...until _that night_. It gave me hope. I didn't know how to reconcile it, but I've known for seventy seven years with utmost surety. And last night, when I came into your flat, and the statue from the church stood in your foyer, I knew that night meant something to you as well."

Crowley's heart was racing as the angel's hands released his to reach out and cup his face. Aziraphale gently rested his forehead against his. They were both breathing heavy enough for their breath to tickle each others' faces as they spoke. Crowley attempted to form words amidst the chaos in his mind and ache of his soul.

"Oh, Angel...you...I-"

"Sorry for keeping you waiting."

Aziraphale mustered everything he had to push beyond the instilled guilt and rhetoric that kept him on a leash for too long. He wanted nothing more than to love Crowley with everything he had.

Dipping in, Aziraphale captured his beloved's lips with his own. He'd never kissed someone on the mouth before, so he just pressed in gently until it felt firm but not harsh.

Crowley froze a moment, his mind going blank for just a couple seconds before realizing that the tantalizing sensations were a beck and call to reciprocation. Slowly he responded, breathing his angel in though his nostrils, taking in that achingly familiar scent in all its glory.

Aziraphale felt something awaken in Crowley, something that often played on his face, a simmered just below the surface of the demon's laissez-faire facade. It burned deep and smoldered like long-stoked embers waking to life. It made the angel's blond hairs stand on end. A lithe arm slid up his lapel, over his shoulder and long slender fingers gripped the back of his neck as the impassioned serpent pulled him into an embrace with the other arm slipping around his waist to clutch his jacket at the small of his back.

Crowley began to take control as the overwhelming need that had compiled for centuries, held at bay for at least two thousand years, began to burst forth. Closeness, emotional and physical intimacy, love in _all_ of it's forms manifested in a deep seated hunger. To hold and be held, to be able to place one's heart in the others' hands and have full trust, to not know where one ends and one begins...

Both were finally allowing themselves to love the other without reservation. All it took was for someone to take the plunge.

Crowley lay back and pulled his lover with him. The solid weight and warmth of the angel, the greatest comfort to his frayed nerves and pounding heart. He tasted Aziraphale's lips as he darted his tongue out in a soft caress. There was indeed a learning curve as the two of them took in the taste and feel of each others' mouths. But they went on like that for at least a half hour before their bodies alerted them to elevated temperatures. A soft sheen of sweat graced their features as they both slowly sat up in a daze.

Crowley looked down at their still entwined hands, then up to those radiant skies that smiled at him. Aziraphale was adorably rosy after a long snog, he imagined he looked much the same.

"It did. The Blitz, I mean..._meant _something," he stumbled before passing a hand over his heated face. It was now or never. Aziraphale had all but said _those_ three words. And he felt exactly that, rolling in waves like a tide between them. "We hadn't talked. I was mad. Hurt...that you didn't trust me. I was insulted that you demeaned our friendship to "fraternizing", when you were the most important person to me in existence. That stung for a while. But after getting the indignation out of my system, I realized that you knew the risk I was taking and didn't want me to take that risk. It took me a while to realized why, but I did. You cared for me in your own way." With a squeeze of their hands, he continued.

"Me coming for you in the Blitz was my way of making amends...my way of showing you that I..._cared_ about you too much to let anything bad happen to you. My feet burned for weeks after that, but it didn't matter. You were back in my life, we were friends again. And I took the statue as a reminder that, well..." He inhaled slowly, his eyes began to well up along with his heart. "You're what's most important to me."

Aziraphale, tears streaking his rosy cheeks, and eyes full of adoration, reached out stroked his cheek.

"I _love_ you, Crowley, with _all_ of my heart."

Crowley trembled slightly under the touch, and at the odd weightless sensation that vaguely reminded him of discorporation.

"I...I can _feel_ it, angel. For the first time since I fell...I feel love. And not just the brilliant light that is yours, but...my _own _as well. How is this even possible? I'm an unforgivable demon cast out from heaven...who holds love in his heart for an angel."

Aziraphale hummed contentedly.

"You and I have always known you were not like the others, dearest. Could it be that that you fell, but did not transform fully like the others? I mean, you still have your wings in tact. Do you know _any _other demons who still have them, who generally still have their angelic form as you do?"

Crowley shook his head and pursed his lips as he pondered.

"There it is, that _has _to be it. Because, my love, I feel you...here." Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on his demon's chest. "_Your_ love is like a hearth on winter's evening. It's smoldering and enduring and can quickly alight into passionate flames when fed."

Crowley picked the angel's hand up from his chest to kiss every finger before holding it to his face.

"I can't tell you how sublime I feel, with the weight of the world lifted, and the heat of Hell's breath down my neck gone, and this new radiant thing that is-apparently-opening one's heart to an angel." Crowley smiled contentedly leaned back into the couch in relaxation, stretching like a cat.

"Yes, I'd like to think the first day in the rest of our lives has gone rather splendidly."

"Indeed. And frankly I'm exhausted," Crowley replied. "I would love a nap, if you would indulge me, Angel. You might just enjoy a little snooze yourself."

With a little bit of shuffling, they made it up to the second floor where Aziraphale kept a bed _just in case_. Tonight he did not regret it. With his own corporation also feeling the strain of the body switch, three bottles of champagne, a highly emotional conversation and nearly an hour of snogging like teenagers, he felt his eyes begin to droop as soon as his head hit the pillow, and his wily serpent spooned up against him and wove his limbs amongst his own.

"We should go to Fiji. Sunny. Summer._ Warrrrmmm..."_

The angel chuckled and squeezed the hand that clutched his waist like he was Crowley's personal teddy bear. Just as they began to drift off toward slumber, he heard Crowley mumble sleepily against the back of his neck.

"Love you, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled to himself and slept for the first time in two centuries.


End file.
